


making adjustments

by delimeful



Series: sit back and watch the world go by [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Space, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Intermission, Medical Torture, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delimeful/pseuds/delimeful
Summary: Virgil gets used to life aboard the Mindscape, and the crew gets used to him. Gradually.-The first WIBAR Intermission piece. Takes place directly after "watch it burn and rust".
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: sit back and watch the world go by [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541683
Comments: 121
Kudos: 1102





	1. Chapter 1

Virgil’s first impression of their ship was that it looked a lot less futuristic than Star Wars would have had him believe. 

It was less ‘fighter jet’ and more ‘classic UFO’ in style, cylindrical and all curves instead of edges. The panels on it seemed to be made of some obsidian-like metal, glinting in the storm’s light. He didn’t know how it compared with other ships, seeing as he’d spent most of his time in space stuck in a cell on one, and thus didn’t have many references.

Oh his shoulder, Patton shook, spraying water from his ruff of feathers like a dog after a bath. Virgil squinted as a few droplets hit his face, and ignored the odd staring that the thin, willowy alien- Logan?- was doing. If Patton’s friend had something to say to him, he could say it outright, because Virgil wasn’t a mind reader.

… Were there aliens that could read minds? 

Patton tapped his shoulder with a clawed finger, pointing at a slight imprint in the ship. “There’s the door! Luckily, we’ve got one of the bigger models since Roman is on the larger end of the alien size scale! You’ll fit just fine.” 

“ _Lucky_ isn’t the word I would use.” Virgil’s shoulders rose slightly as he caught the grumble from a few feet behind him, unheard by Patton’s duller ears. If he wasn’t so on edge, he’d be annoyed. If Roman was going to shit-talk him, he could at least do it in something other than Common so Virgil didn’t have to listen to it. 

It was already difficult enough just letting the Crav’on walk behind him; everything in Virgil screamed danger at even the smallest movement from the bulky alien. At just a few inches under five feet tall, Roman wasn’t able to loom over Virgil, but his spike-like scales were all fully extended, making him look like a mix between an angry cat and a porcupine. His rigid, shell-like ears kept twitching, and frankly, Virgil was expecting to get one of those scales through his spine any minute now. 

Patton shifted eagerly, his feathers fluffing in a way that meant he wanted down, and Virgil swiftly crouched to allow the Ampen an easier trip to the ground. Both of the others twitched at the fast movement, and he barely repressed the urge to flinch in response. Showing his nerves would only make them more anxious. Conceal, don’t feel, ect.

As promised, he only had to duck his head slightly to get through the ship’s main entry door, and the hallways were luckily tall enough that he could pass through in his customary slouch. He couldn’t help but stare like an idiot as Patton led him through the ship’s passages, getting glimpses of other rooms full of the alien versions of furniture and books. Such normal, everyday objects, but for a while he’d never thought he’d get to see them again.

Roman and Logan accompanied them, as though the moment they let Patton out of their sight, he’d vanish. Though he suspected this in large had to do with the Ampen dragging around an entire Human, he could understand it. He’d also do just about anything to keep Patton safe, after all. He couldn’t blame them for it when he himself had a panic attack nearly every time the Ampen had left for a town to get supplies without him.

“Here!” Patton announced, guiding him into what was probably a bathroom. The Ampen leapt up onto the counter, pulling a white cylindrical container from one of the shelves. “We’ve got plenty of bandages for when Roman gets himself into trouble. Can you rinse that scratch off for me?”

Virgil nodded and spent a moment fiddling with the sink while Roman protested loudly, something about defending his honor and trouble finding him. Once he managed to get the water running, he carefully peeled his sleeve away from his cheek, wincing when the fibers pulled at the newly clotted blood. Logan appeared at his side and offered him a dark cloth towel, making him jump in surprise. “Uh, thanks.” 

After a fair amount of delicate washing and applying some basic disinfectant spray, Patton gestured for him to crouch. His eyes flickered to the other two, who were watching him with fascination and disgust, respectively. He… didn’t particularly want to be more exposed than he already was in front of them, Roman especially, but it was Patton asking, and what right did he have to deny Patton anything? He folded down into range of his little clawed hands, trying not to shiver at the cool air on the back of his neck. 

Patton carefully applied gauze and tape all along the injury, making him feel like an underdressed mummy. “There! They’re pretty shallow, so they should heal up in no time with your healing rate!” 

“Thanks, Pat.” He quickly rose back to a standing position, shoulders slouched. 

The Ampen beamed at him, and Virgil felt more than saw the other two aliens stiffen. He let the edge of his mouth curl up in response, but carefully didn’t show any teeth. Never let it be said that he didn’t learn.

“Patton.” Logan reached out with one of his upper arms, settling crystalline fingers onto Patton’s shoulder. The Ampen leaned into the touch with a melodic hum. “Perhaps we could settle in the living quarters. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Virgil glanced between them, remembering that they were Patton’s real friends, and they’d been looking for Patton for ages, and had somehow managed to track them down where a huge smuggling organization had failed. Patton no doubt missed them just as much, his antennae fluffed out the way they were when he was truly happy.

He wasn’t about to ruin their happy reunion by making the others uncomfortable or worse, afraid. He couldn’t do that to Patton, even if his chest ached with the certainty that his welcome would only be temporary. Maybe the less he intruded, the longer they’d let him stay?

He cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing their attention. “I’m tired. Is it okay if I…?” 

Patton frowned in worry and Roman sneered, but Logan was the one to speak, extra arms tucked behind his back politely. “Of course. We have a guest room, though it’s not particularly furnished at the moment.” 

Virgil’s shoulders dropped a little at the idea of having some space to himself to breathe. “Yeah, that works perfect. Thank you.” 

Once they reached the room, Patton was beckoning him down into a crouch again so he could check his head for ‘human illnesses’. Virgil chuckled quietly, still all-too-aware of the foreign eyes on him.

“No fever, Pat. I’m a little… too-much, right now.” He carefully moved Patton’s hand from his forehead and patted it like he was handling precious glass. “I’ll be okay. You said… they’re safe, yeah?” 

Patton nodded exuberantly. “I would trust them with my life, Vee.” He paused, antennae flicking back and forth in uncertainty. “I… can I come check in later?”

Virgil felt himself soften further, well aware of Patton’s nerves at separating. He felt the same way, after all. “Always.” 

Patton nodded again, gently bumping his head against the underside of Virgil’s chin before finally withdrawing. He watched as the three of them began to walk down the hall, Patton waving with a tiny hand and Roman shooting him a glare, and then ducked into the guest room, making sure to leave the sliding door partially open.

It was plain but had all the necessities, which was all Virgil really cared about, considering he’d been sleeping on the dirt ground for the past month. He checked the perimeter of the room carefully, exploring every corner and door. 

Rationally, he knew there shouldn’t be any danger hidden away here, but he was too used to making sure his and Patton’s campsite wouldn’t be found by any stray locals. Habits that kept one alive were hard to break.

Eventually the paranoid itch in the back of his mind was satisfied, and he crawled into the bed, which was more of a hollow egg-shape, stuffed full of mounds of soft bedding. It was easily large enough for him, thankfully, and he settled in to sleep. 

… 

Sleep didn’t come. 

Ridiculously enough, it was because he was too comfortable. The room was cool and quiet and dark, with no weather or local insects to worry about hurting Patton, but it was also wide and exposed to anyone who walked past his door. The bedding was soft and smooth, but clean enough that he felt bad for sprawling his dirty body across it. 

He wondered vaguely if he could maybe shower, and then dismissed the thought. He didn’t even know what the supplies or facilities were like on this ship, and he really didn’t want to be without his clothes until he was sure one of the others weren’t going to attack him. 

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, he gave in and dragged a thin blanket along to one of the odd circular storage cabinets in the room. It had a flat bottom, and it was hard and enclosed from any passerby, and that was enough for him. He had to fold his body slightly to fit in it fully, but he’d slept in worse conditions. Much worse. 

Within moments, his eyelids drooped, and he was out. 

_He woke up strapped to a table, which was never a very pleasant way to wake. Above him, aliens in full-body protective suits muttered and babbled clinically in Common that was too complex for him to understand. He couldn’t struggle, stuck in his body looking out as he was stuck with needles and tubes._

_At least this time whatever drug they had used to paralyze him was keeping him from feeling the pain._

_His vision blurred in and out of focus, mind drifting as he watched bits and pieces of himself be cut away._

_Suddenly, all the harvesters seemed to vanish, stepping back out of sight. He wished he could turn his head to see them, make sure they weren’t doing anything without him knowing, but what difference did it make? It wasn’t like he could do anything about it._

_The horror of the situation only began to settle in fully when the Machine appeared at his side. His eyes locked onto its glossy surface immediately, his breaths coming quicker and quicker as gloved hands strapped cold bands around his forehead and wrists._

_They flipped him over, and even though all he could see was the table, he knew the moment they’d attached the barbed metallic strip to his back, right along his spinal cord. His nerves jumped, feeling jolting through them again, minutes too late._

_He had already been dumped in the arena, a room with cold white walls and windows set into the ceiling for harvesters to look down on him and whatever unlucky bastard they threw in with him today._

_His gaze was drawn back down to the door lifting on the other side of the chamber. Speak of the devil._

_Virgil rolled to his feet, ignoring the ache of his body to prepare himself. Almost all of the aliens they paired him with came out of the door ready to maul him, be it from anger, or drugs, or simple terror. He’d gotten enough scars trying to talk them down, enough to know the futility of it._

_When the door rose, however, he knew the face behind it._ Patton?

_It was as though the past months had never happened, like they were meeting in that cell for the first time again. Patton shook and trembled, scrambling back against the door as it swung shut after him. Virgil felt something in him ache at the sight._

_He opened his mouth to reassure him, tried to kneel and reduce the difference in height between them, to look as nonthreatening as possible._ Patton, I would never hurt you.

 _His body was silent. It took a step forward without Virgil’s input. And then another. And then he was suddenly there, inches away from the Ampen, hand reaching out for his throat and Patton let out a desperate_ wail _, the one he’d only heard once, just before their escape—_

Virgil jerked awake like he’d been electrocuted by a guard taser, choking on his own spit as he struggled to breathe. 

Just a dream. Just a dream. 

He tried to concentrate, reaching out with a feather-light (never careless, never harmful) touch for the reassuring, fluffy weight of his friend against him. All he found was air, and his fear levels shot up into panic attack territory. Where was Patton? Patton wasn’t there, Patton was gone, Patton was-

Patton was home. Patton was safely bundled into bed with his _real_ family, the ones that didn’t have violent, horrifying nightmares. 

The memories of the past however many hours hit him, then, and his hands fell limp back to his sides. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, he knew, because Patton was safe and happy here, and that was what the Ampen deserved. That was what mattered, not his stupid little hurt feelings over the fact that Patton’s friends definitely hated him. He dragged a hand over his face tiredly, mouth sour with the knowledge that he was a bad friend. 

All intent to sleep gone, he attempted to reach for the cabinet door, only to find empty air. He blinked, squinting in the dark, and found it easily enough. He’d apparently kicked out in his nightmare, because his right foot was stuck in the detached cabinet door, driven through the white material like it was cheap plaster. Oops. 

This made it considerably more difficult to maneuver his body out of the cabinet, but he managed without driving the splintered door into his ankle too much. Still stung terribly when he pulled it off though, leaving several fresh new scrapes. Hopefully those wouldn’t get infected. 

The door to his temporary room was still partially open, thankfully, and he quietly nudged it further to slip out into the hallway. The lights had been dimmed partially, probably to simulate night and keep them on a routine sleep schedule. The smugglers hadn’t bothered with light cycles for his cell, leaving one corner of the room darkened at all times for whenever he got exhausted enough to sleep. It was a nice change.

Aimless beyond an urge to ascertain Patton’s safety, he wandered the ship near-silently, glancing at any open doors he passed and attempting to figure out what the purpose of them was from what little he could see in the rooms. There were helpful labels on some of the doors, but he still didn’t know how to read the written form of Common. Patton had offered to teach him, but there wasn’t much time to waste writing in the dirt while they were on the run.

Still slightly out of it from his nightmare, Virgil almost walked right into one of Roman’s sharp-edged scales before realizing he was there. He froze, breath catching in his lungs as he waited for the bulky alien to notice him there at his side. The alien turned his head slowly, the horns atop it forming a distinct crown silhouette. 

Roman’s red eyes were just light enough in color to be picked out from the rest of his face, and Virgil watched in disbelief as they passed over him without a second glance. The alien shuddered slightly, the movement making his scales rattle and shift, and then turned away to tromp back down the hall. 

Night vision, Virgil suddenly recalled, thinking about how often he’d had to guide Patton through terrain in the dark. He’d thought it might have just been an Ampen thing, but it looked like Roman’s species didn’t see into shadows too well either. He let out a slow breath, watching as Roman began his circuit anew. He could only assume that the area he was patrolling was where the others were resting. Of course Roman would be up to guard them from the human.

Guess he wouldn’t be able to check on Patton after all. 

Suddenly more tired than before, he waited until Roman’s back was turned and then bolted back the way he’d come on silent feet. 

Well. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent sleepless nights alone before now. A few more on a new ship wouldn’t hurt, since he couldn’t imagine it would be long before he was back to sleeping out on hostile planets.


	2. Chapter 2

Once he heard the sounds of the others waking, Virgil managed to work up the courage to head out to the common area, mostly to reassure his stupid brain that Patton really was safe.

Predictably, trouble immediately found him in the form of one very large, very pissed-off alien. 

Fortunately, he was too tired from staying up panicking all night to flinch at Roman’s approach. He raised an eyebrow in question, watching him for any sign of attack. “What’s wrong?” 

“ _ What’s wrong?! _ ” Roman echoed angrily, his huge clawed hands twitching. “What’s  _ wrong _ is that you apparently decided to gallivant around our ship without supervision for the whole night!” 

Virgil tensed, his heart rate picking up. Did that mean that Roman really had seen him last night, and just acted otherwise? 

Before he could ask, there was an excited trill from the hall. 

“Virgil!” A flurry of bright blue feathers darted into the room, launching itself directly at his chest. 

He caught the Ampen with a wheeze, ignoring the little black spots in the corners of his vision. Relief filled him at the sight of his friend unharmed, and his shoulders lost some of their stiffness. “Hey, Pat.” 

Roman was twitching harder now, his eyes narrowed in a piercing red glare, but Patton didn’t seem to notice. “Where’d you go last night? I went to check on you before bed and you weren’t in your room!” 

Virgil felt a strange happy tug in his chest at the knowledge that Patton hadn’t forgotten about him, and his lips twitched up for a second before he processed the rest of his query. “Huh? Yes I was.” 

“ _ No _ , you  _ weren’t _ ,” Roman growled. 

Patton leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s just grumpy because he was up patrolling all night even though I told him over and over that you weren’t going to do anything.” 

Virgil shrugged, careful not to upset Patton’s balance. “Well, that’s a shame, because I was in my room. I just wasn’t sleeping in the bed.” 

Roman said something in another language, but Virgil could recognize being called on his bullshit by the tone alone. He rolled his eyes, and turned to head into the hallway. 

“Fine, I’ll prove it.” 

They ran into Logan on the way to the bedroom, and he tucked his extra set of arms behind his back and followed them curiously, confirming that he had also believed Virgil had abandoned the room for the night. 

He had a lot to say when Virgil showed them the cabinet he’d spent the night curled up in, and then upon further prompting, gave a demonstration of how he “managed to fit” in it. 

Roman was speechless for a record-breaking minute and a half, until he noticed the lack of a cabinet door. 

Virgil pulled the mangled door out from beneath the egg-bed-hammock thing sheepishly. “It was an accident.” 

“You kicked through solid Plylon?” Logan asked, eyes bright with interest.

“You kicked through  _ solid Plylon _ ?” Roman asked, in a much more displeased tone of voice. 

“Kiddo, is there something wrong with the bed?” Patton asked, completely unfazed by the destroyed furnishing. Virgil gingerly set the Plylon(?) board down. 

“No, I just… slept easier in the small space,” he answered, having no idea what the word for cabinet was in Common. 

“Do you require a different room? I’m certain we can arrange a smaller or more contained bed,” Logan offered, something in his voice setting Virgil on edge.

“No, really, this works fine,” he insisted, and then resigned himself to lying. “It’s just like beds at home.” 

It wasn’t like he’d be not-sleeping here much longer anyhow. There was no point in making them waste their time on stuff for him. 

“Okay, if you’re sure…,” Patton said. Virgil nodded, and let the tiny alien drag him back to the commons. The last glimpse he got of the others were the two of them engaged in quiet conversation, Logan holding the shredded cabinet door out appraisingly. 

He shuddered, and didn’t look back again.

“You want anything?” Patton asked, a common phrase from back when they were forced to barter and gather for their food. Virgil forced himself not to automatically answer in the negative. There wasn’t a scarcity of food here, he didn’t have to skimp out so Patton would get a full meal. He was lucky the Ampen hadn’t realized that Virgil had been misleading him about how much humans needed to eat.

“Uh, sure. I’ll eat whatever.” One learned not to be picky when living as a hunted fugitive in space. Plus, apparently most “deathworlders” could eat things that would be considered poisonous to other aliens. He supposed his former caffeine addiction would seem outrageous to these guys. 

By the time Patton returned with bowls and silverware, Logan and Roman had returned to the commons, claiming their own spots on the couch built into the floor. Virgil made a note of where they were sitting for future reference of seats to avoid, studiously ignoring the two aliens’ gazes. 

Outright questions were more difficult to ignore. 

“Virgil, was it?” Logan started, stressing the second vowel for too long. Names didn’t translate too well in Common, so Virgil nodded vaguely, not bothering to correct him. “How often do you eat?” 

Oh great, the one question he didn’t want to answer in front of Patton. Virgil stared at him blankly for a moment, and then shoved an oversized piece of fruit into his mouth to stall for time. He immediately regretted the action as he began to gag on the overwhelmingly sweet flavor. 

Strangely enough, Logan immediately recoiled, and tucked all four of his arms behind himself. “My apologies,” he offered in a much more reserved tone, eyes averted. 

Virgil’s mouth was too occupied with the miscellaneous space fruit he was half-choking on to ask what the hell Logan thought he’d done wrong, so he held up a finger in a gesture of ‘just a second, let me finish inhaling this fruit’. 

There was a loud cracking noise a few feet away, and Virgil turned in time to watch Roman shake the splintered remains of his eating utensils from his claws. 

“I’m going to bed,” he announced with the dark anger of a wronged anime protagonist, and promptly stomped out of the room. Patton chirped a sound that was the Ampen equivalent of clicking his tongue. Virgil continued to choke on the damn fruit for another few moments. 

“What… was that all about?” he managed as his airway finally cleared up. “What’d I do?” 

Logan finally looked up at him again, a strange curiosity in his gaze. “You don’t know?” 

“Virgil was smuggled fresh off the planet, Lo,” Patton chimed in helpfully. “He hasn’t gotten any sensitivity training. You wouldn’t believe how many times I thought he was going to take a bite out of me just from how he was staring!” 

Virgil planted his face in his hands to hide his mortified flush. He spent a lot of time dissociating in that cell- he hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the time! 

“So, the threat displays are… unintentional, then?” Logan asked, and Patton gave an affirmative whistle. 

“What are… threat displays?” Virgil asked, clumsily sounding out the unfamiliar Common. Logan visibly perked up.

“The baring of teeth and extended jaw are signs of aggression in many cultures,” he explained, lifting his arms to gesture. “Beyond the fact that he truly does need sleep after staying up for so long, I believe Roman left because pointing with one digit is a gesture of disrespect in Crav’n sign. They have a language formed solely by hand signals and body gesturing, due to the prevalence of early-onset deafness in some adults.” 

“I- hold on.” Virgil turned to Patton. “Baby words for the idiot, please,” he requested, using the English word for idiot.

“I hope you’re not speaking bad about yourself, Virgil!” Patton knew him too well. The Ampen frowned suspiciously at him for a moment longer before repeating what Logan had said in simpler words, with some added English and gesturing for what certain Common phrases meant. Logan watched the byplay with wide, intrigued eyes. 

Virgil nodded, wishing he had a manual for alien body language. And a Common-to-English dictionary, while he was at it. And maybe a free spaceship ride home.

“I know about sign language,” he finally offered, fingerspelling his name in example. “Humans have… uh. Hearing-gone?” How had he already forgotten the word, Logan had just said it.

“Deafness?” Logan offered tentatively, and Virgil offered a quirk of his lips in thanks. 

“We have deafness also, there are many causes,” Virgil didn’t have the vocabulary to describe the human tradition of gathering together to have performers blast loud music directly at them at close range without sounding like a dumbass, so he left it at that. Who knew if aliens even got tinnitus. 

“Interesting,” Logan said, tracing patterns in the air with his lower hands. “I would have presumed- ah, guessed that weaker individuals wouldn’t have persisted- or, lived long enough to form a cultural touchstone like a sign language on a world like yours.”

Logan’s effort to dumb down his vocabulary helped, and Virgil raised an eyebrow once he figured out the implied question. “What, you think we just leave deaf people to get hurt alone?” 

He’d meant the question sarcastically, but Logan’s distinct silence was answer enough. He set his fork down despite not having eaten more than a bite of his food. “Oh.” 

Logan looked from Virgil to Patton and back, belatedly sensing his misstep. “I didn’t mean offense. I’ve simply been led to believe that human social constructs weren’t so… community-based.” 

“It’s fine,” Virgil said, careful not to come off snappish. He’d forgotten his situation, his position as a human for a moment. “Don’t worry about it.”

He pushed back from his chair, and Patton tilted his head, birdlike in his concern. “I’m just still a little tired. I’m going to rest some more.” 

“Do you want me to come with?” Patton asked, antennae leaning towards him. Virgil shook his head. He didn’t want to imagine what kind of scene would occur if Roman woke up and found them. He was supposed to be avoiding putting tension on Patton’s relationships, not increasing it. 

“No, you finish eating. I’ll probably be out later.” He didn’t meet Patton’s eyes as he turned away. Lying again. At least he knew that was what they really expected of him, being human and all.

“Is this amount of sleep normal for a human?” Virgil heard Logan ask in a not-quiet-enough tone as he left. He was out of range before he could hear Patton’s answer. 

He spent the rest of the light cycle sitting in the corner of his room behind the bed, not answering whenever Patton knocked gently on the sliding door. He couldn’t hang out, he was too busy staring blankly at the wall with only the barest perception of time passing. By the time he snapped out of his dissociative fugue, the hall lights had been dimmed and the ship was quiet once more.

Taking a spare moment to stretch away his body’s stiffness, he crawled back into the cupboard space. Sleep attempt two: electric boogaloo. He could feel exhaustion weighing on him, making his eyelids droop heavily with every blink. Surely he was tired enough to just get a dreamless coma-nap? Please? 

Barely an hour later, he jerked up and slammed his head into the roof of the compartment, breathing so stifled that he had to crawl out of the confining space before the band around his lungs loosened slightly. 

He could barely even remember what the nightmare had been about. The only things that lingered after he woke were snapshot sensations- flesh under his teeth, the feeling of being chased, Patton’s rust-orange blood  _ too much they’ll find him run run run _ \- and a sense of terrified dread settling deep into his bones. Probably for the best that he didn’t remember the specifics. He shuddered, pulling himself to his feet. 

As long as he avoided the part of the ship where the others slept, it wouldn’t hurt to walk around the ship a little, ease his nerves. He hoped. It wasn’t like he was going to touch anything important, just… maybe try to figure out how the kitchen worked around here. 

He was struck with a feeling of deja vu as he crept through the corridors, and snorted at realizing that he was sneaking around to get a snack like he’d done back when he was ten. Everything always seemed louder in the quiet of the night when everyone else was asleep, though it was offset slightly by the way the walls hummed. Side effect of being in a spaceship, he supposed. 

When he reached the kitchen, he realized that he wasn’t the only one who’d thought to rummage around for a snack. Logan was there, humming one of Patton’s melodies softly as he leaned over whatever he was fixing himself. His arms were more extended than Virgil had seen since their first encounter, three of them busy with making food while the fourth one traced squiggles into the air. He tilted his head curiously, and then rapped his knuckles against the wall quietly to announce his presence.

All of Logan’s hands spasmed in surprise, but his turn to face Virgil was slow and measured, not fearful. The moment he recognized him, his extra arms were tucked away behind him, and he stared at Virgil with those translucent eyes. 

“Are you nocturnal?” he asked, and Virgil blinked. It was better than being interrogated on what he was doing out of his room, he supposed. 

“Nah, just got up because I was hungry,” he answered. He couldn’t really be nocturnal if he wasn’t sleeping during the day. He wasn’t sleeping at night, either, but that was beside the point. “What are you eating?” 

Logan glanced behind himself. “Are you asking simply out of curiosity? A desire to know?”

“Uh, yeah. Just wondering.” At his response, Logan relaxed slightly and shifted aside. 

“I am eating a staple food made from ground meal and water, with a preserve- a sort of sweet topping made from fruits of my home planet.” 

It looked kind of like jam on untoasted bread, though the textures appeared slightly different. “Huh. Nice,” Virgil offered him a thumbs up, and then, at Logan’s intrigued gaze, remembered that he’d only ever explained that gesture to Patton. “It’s a hand-sign meaning ‘good’ or approval.” 

“I see!” Logan mimicked the gesture curiously with both hands, and Virgil noticed how his fingers, while similar to a human’s, tapered to a distinctly thinner point at the end. Probably pretty useful for finer, more detailed craftwork or repairs. 

“Would you like to try some?” Logan’s voice cut smoothly into his thoughts.

“What?” Virgil looked up to see the alien holding up a piece of bread. Was this out of fear, like when Patton had always let Virgil eat first back in the cell? “Oh, uh, I don’t want to take your food.” 

“I’m offering it. Sharing food is a show of community and trust in many cultures.” Logan recited the fact neutrally, but something about the way his hands tensed and untensed behind his back made Virgil think he was taking this conversation seriously regardless. 

He reached forward to take the bread, careful not to get the jam all over his hands. “Thank you.” 

Logan inclined his head slightly, long ears twitching. Virgil did his best to ignore the way he was openly staring as he bit into the bread. The crust was much softer than he’d expected, but the taste of the bread was distinctly less sweet than most white breads, almost savory. The jam on top did more than enough to provide the sugar, though, and Virgil hummed in appreciation. At least if he was going to have an allergic reaction and die from space food, it would be tasty space food. 

“Is that a sign of enjoyment?” Logan asked, clearly invested in Virgil’s opinion for whatever reason, and he nodded. 

“Yeah, it tastes really good.” His gaze trailed down to where Logan’s lower arms were drawing patterns in the air again. “Hey, why do you do that?” The arms were immediately stowed away again. “And that. Am I not supposed to look at them?” 

Logan slowly drew his arms back out, ears tilted up curiously. “No, it is okay for you to view them. I was simply trying not to startle or otherwise upset you… When the three of us first began to travel together, I had to learn how to mind my arms to avoid causing Roman undue stress.”

“Roman got nervous because of your arms?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. The huge alien didn’t seem the type to be twitchy around friends. 

“For a Crav'on, spreading one’s arms is an imminent sign of an attack. Roman hadn’t been around any Ulgorii before, so it took him a while to adjust and be able to view my gesturing without believing that I was upset or about to lunge at him,” he explained. “Do humans not feel threatened by such motions?” 

“Uh… maybe if I didn’t realize you were there at first? As long as you don’t, like, hit me, I don’t really mind if you do your little,” he wiggled his fingers in an imitation of Logan’s gestures, “thing with all your hands.” 

“I would not hit you,” Logan hurried to reassure him. “My mind-weaving is very contained even when it looks… haphazard, or messy.” 

“Mind-weaving?” Virgil asked, and then watched as Logan brought his hands forward to show him the air-patterns he was tracing. “Oh, is that what that is?” 

“Yes. It’s a method of physical memory integration for my people, to keep a record of important thoughts or data.” Logan twisted his wrist slightly. “It makes it significantly easier to recall information, as well.”

“Huh,” Virgil said, reminded of notetaking. “Why are you always doing it around me? I’m not that interesting.” 

Logan’s ears angled downwards in disagreement. “To the contrary, I’ve nearly cramped my hands recording all the information I can about you! It’s been quite the trial to keep track of all of your mannerisms and what they imply about life on your planet.” 

A trickle of unease dripped down Virgil’s spine, making goosebumps rise on his skin. “Uh, why are you doing it then?” 

The alien looked as though Virgil had asked why the sky was blue. “I have to make sure I don’t forget anything, of course. There’s never been scientific records of a human from direct contact and engagement like my conversations with you. There’s so much to learn, so many misconceptions to dispel and correct! I’d be a particularly poor scientist if I didn’t keep records of it all for the future.”

Scientist. Virgil dropped the remnants of his bread, stumbling back as adrenaline surged through him. He clutched as his heart, furious at his own physiology for making it all the easier for Logan to take more from him. Patton had said he trusted him but did Patton know? Was Patton in on it? Had all this- befriending him, speaking with him, bringing him into their home- been some insane ploy from the beginning? For what? A willing lab rat? 

Movement in the corner of his eye made his head snap up, and he bared his teeth ferally at the sight of Logan trying to reach towards him, to take. “No! Don’t-  _ Get away from me! _ ” 

The alien jerked away like he’d touched a hot stove, eyes big and afraid because Virgil was human and humans were monsters and they were going to get rid of him-

“Lo?” Roman’s low voice overlapped with Logan’s terrified nonsense words, Virgil’s own shallow breaths, and the sight of the Crav'on in the room was enough to snap him out of his frozen state and into flight. He shoved a chair to skid across the floor in Roman’s direction and bolted, halfway to his room before realizing that that was the first place they’d look. 

He cursed. He’d leave, get off this stupid ship and save them the trouble of booting him, but all there was outside was the cold vacuum of space, and he didn’t know how to work the stupid doors anyways. There were calls of his name from the side of the ship he’d left behind. 

Virgil found the tallest appliance he could and scaled to the top of it easily, shoving himself into the furthest shadowy corner and pretending that he was back on that ship, alone in that tiny, dark cell. At least there he knew who was going to hurt him, and when.


	3. Chapter 3

For the next several hours, Virgil stayed tucked away in an exhausted, half-dozing half-delirious state, his dreams flickering between vivid nightmares and the solitary silence of his cell, back on the ship. 

He wondered if maybe all this was the dream, and the empty cell was the reality he was ignoring. Figured even his theoretical hallucination coma dreams would end badly. 

Roman and Logan were searching the ship for him. He could hear them every time they entered the storage room he was in, or the rooms adjacent, but they never seemed to look up. He softened his breathing to near-nonexistent whenever they showed up, his whole body tense with the anticipation of being found out. 

“–searched the ship through several times by now, Roman. I believe that our only choices are to wake Patton or give up. Wherever he is, Virgil clearly doesn’t want to be found.” Logan’s voice was somewhat subdued, his consonants less sharp than normal. 

There was a rough scoff. “Wrong, there are still plenty of places to look! You saw how he folded into that cabinet, there are all sorts of Human-accessible spaces that size on the Mindscape, such as this–!” Roman opened a compartment nearby with a dramatic click as though to emphasize his point. “… Well, he’s not in that one. But the point still stands! We can’t just _give up._ ” 

“Roman, you know as well as I that you are not built to remain awake past one of your normal sleep cycles, let alone two. Even if we did come across Virgil now, if he felt threatened enough to attack us as he did earlier, you would be unable to fight sufficiently,” Logan explained patiently. 

“Threatened by what? You and your jam stains?” Roman bit back, but Virgil could hear the way the response lacked its usual vigor. “Fine, we’ll give it up for the night. It’d be safer to stick together and guard Patton anyhow, what am I even doing?” Footsteps hurried over to the door. “But really, tomorrow, I’m giving that guy a piece of my mind!” 

The chill that traveled down Virgil’s spine was nothing when compared to the ice-cold terror that seized him at Logan’s response, his calm voice fading off as they finally left the room. “Yes, I wish to have a word with him as well…” 

He bit into the meat of his palm and rode out the surge of joint-locking fear, forcing himself not to make a sound in case they hadn’t really left. It was fine. Everything was fine. Neither of them had noticed him, and they were going back to the room they slept in now. Logan wanted… something with him, but had decided it could wait until tomorrow. 

That just meant he had to be off the ship by tomorrow. Easy. 

Slowly, he forced his trembling limbs to lower himself off the top of the storage unit, wincing at every thump or creak it emitted as he clambered down. Socks would have been useful for softening the sound of his feet against the cool ship flooring, but he’d been barefoot for so long it had become his normal. It was strange, the things one got used to when they were forced to adapt or die. He almost felt grimier on the pristine spaceship than he did roughing it in hostile terrain. At least in the outdoors there were bodies of water he could use to rinse off.

Shaking the errant thought away, he crept through the halls, taking a few winding detours to avoid going anywhere near the others’ sleeping quarters. He paused briefly in front of the kitchen, knowing from experience that his shakiness and lack of hunger despite not having eaten anything substantial in… a while meant that he should break his impromptu fast soon, but… 

It didn’t feel right, stealing from Patton, no matter how insignificant. The guy had already had enough taken from him. 

He spotted the bread and jam he’d dropped earlier, overturned on the floor and forgotten, and quickly ducked down another hallway before he could think too hard about what might happen if he didn’t get off this ship before Logan found him.

Unfortunately, the ship itself was the problem. Even if he had been well-rested enough to read quickly, all the labels were still in written common. There was even a form of alien braille etched into the plaques, which was considerate if completely unhelpful to him. He really could have used some helpful symbols at this point. Too bad nobody would have ever predicted an illiterate human being on board. 

He wasted at least an hour poking around in any room that seemed like it might have some sort of exit mechanism, coming up with nothing that he was willing to actually mess with, lest it activate an alarm or vaporize his brains or whatever. He was tired, he didn’t have the energy to properly imagine what fiddling with alien tools could do to him. 

Wired as he was, adrenaline could only last so long, and so he almost missed the skitter of footsteps coming up behind him. He spun around, and Patton drew up short with a tiny trill of surprise, glowing a soft blue in the dim hallway. 

“No touching?” he asked, intuitive as always to Virgil’s body language. Though he had no idea how he’d slipped past the others without waking them, Virgil could tell just by looking at the Ampen that he hadn’t been told what had happened. Well, he wasn’t about to change that. 

“Just a little nervous,” he reassured him, reaching an arm out and holding still as Patton hauled himself up to nestle in the crook of his elbow. He scrambled for something to say, not ready to decide if he could tell Patton he was trying to leave. “What are you doing up at this hour?” 

“I could ask you the same,” Patton grumped, voice muffled slightly as he turned his face into Virgil’s arm. “… Had a nightmare. Needed to make sure you were safe. Why weren’t you in your room? I got all worried.” 

He exhaled as though someone had reached into his chest and squeezed all the air from his lungs. Patton had been there at his side, in that cell. He’d suffered just like Virgil had. He hadn’t connected the dots, hadn’t realized that Patton might miss the security of sleeping as his side, too. 

“I… I was just feeling restless,” he said, turning away from the unexplored rooms and beginning to walk back towards the one he’d been not-sleeping in for ages. “Patton, you said you trust your friends, right? They’d never hurt you?” 

Patton tilted his head back to look at Virgil curiously, but answered nonetheless. “That’s right. Roman and Logan are good, Virgil. They won’t hurt us.” 

He believed that Patton believed that. He believed that they were truly Patton’s friends, too; he’d seen the way they looked at him, caught glances of the softness between the three of them when they spent time together. The problem was that there was no way that extended to him, a human.

Patton cared about him though, he was pretty sure. And they cared about Patton, so they would have to behave in front of him. Maybe he’d be ‘persuaded’ to get some blood drawn, some samples taken, some tests performed, but with Patton there, things wouldn’t be as bad as the labs. 

“Virge?” Patton called softly. “You’re shaking…” 

“Just a little tired.” He forced his body into laxness, twisting his lips up in a wry smile to reassure his small friend. “No worries, Pat.”

He made his way into the room, curling up against the back corner behind the bed that would hide them from anyone passing by the door. Patton snuggled himself against the curve of his body, a tiny ball of feathers and fluff breathing quietly next to him. 

“Soft sleep,” Patton cooed, one of the first phrases Virgil had properly learned in Ampen. 

“Gentle rest,” he responded in a soft mumble. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were back out on the surface of some small, wild planet. Funny how that was more relaxing than the supposed safety of this ship.

Still, he had faith that Patton wouldn’t let anything like the labs happen to him. And if the other aliens refused to listen to Patton, then the two of them could leave, go back to roughing it and planet-drifting where things were simpler. He wouldn’t be trapped again. 

Slowly, the tension leaked out of his frame as drowsiness finally overcame him, Patton’s presence like a balm on his weary mind. For the first time in days, Virgil slept a dreamless sleep. 

-

“Patton!” 

He woke to an angry bellow, something about it distinctly inhuman, and jolted upwards, automatically shifting to keep most of Patton concealed behind his arms. The guards— the ship’s inhabitants?— the Others were angry with Patton, why were they angry? Were they going to hurt him? 

He wouldn’t let them. 

His vision was hazy and spotted around the edges from his abrupt waking, but he could still tell when the larger of the two figures in the doorway began to move closer. He shuffled back slightly and bared his teeth, only catching fragments of the rumbling voice.

“– let go of him _right n–”_

He hissed for good measure, mimicking the type of ‘come closer and you’ll regret it’ cadence that particularly furious cats used back home at the clinic. He was gratified to see the larger silhouette hesitate at the sound. 

The Ampen in his arms finally stirred at all the ruckus, and the room seemed to go unnaturally quiet. Virgil didn’t even glance down as he woke, too nervous that one of the others would try to advance now that the target of their anger was awake.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbled, peeking out over the protective barrier Virgil’s arms made. “Guys? Is it morning already?” 

Patton knew them. Virgil’s gaze flickered between the two, heart sinking. Not guards. 

“Morning– we woke up and you’d _vanished!_ ” the larger– Roman cried, body rattling with his barely-contained intensity. “We thought something had happened! And we find you _here–!_ ”

“Roman–,” Patton tried.

“ _No!_ This can not stand!” Roman cut him off angrily, stepping forward. Virgil felt his vision almost white-out with panic, shoving himself back again and meeting ungiving wall. They were dangerous, he was afraid of them– but they were Patton’s friends, he couldn’t fight them– but they were _mad._

Roman took another step forward, and Virgil quickly twisted around to face the corner, nudging Patton onto the ground and curving over him as a physical shield. If they wanted to hurt Patton, they’d have to go through him. Literally. 

“Please,” he said, cutting off the beginning of a sentence from one of the others. He tried to inhale deeply, but he could only manage shallow gasps. “Don’t be mad at him. It was– my fault, I brought him here, I’m– I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. You can– do whatever you want, just–” His voice cracked, throat contracting painfully. 

White noise seemed to rise like a wave in his ears, and he curled in tighter around Patton as he felt someone get closer, steps vibrating on the cool floor. He made an upset noise, eyes scrunched shut in anticipation of the blow that was coming. “Get away. Don’t hurt him. Don’t– _Please._ ” 

“Virgil,” a voice said, quiet and unobtrusive. “Virge, you’ve gotta breathe.” 

A small hand patted his cheek lightly, a calming blue glow visible once he opened his eyes. He struggled to follow Patton’s instructions, still listening for the moment he would be attacked. 

“Don’t worry about them, kiddo, I’m here. I’m right here, okay? Do you… um, do you remember the words for colors in Common?” 

He did. Patton had taught him a few back in the cell, but there were only so many colors they could discern from themselves and their meager rations. Once they’d escaped, Patton had spent a whole day dragging Virgil around to every flower in the vicinity and sharing the names for each of their colors. 

“What were your favorites again? I know you told me, I just can’t quite remember…” 

Virgil struggled to speak for a few moments, and then pointed at the purple on his jacket, tapping it with shaky fingers. 

“Purple! That’s right, that was one of them!” Patton beamed at him, his glow brightening, and Virgil managed a shaky but full inhale before touching the bags under his eyes with a wry smile. He’d used the same feature to share the color with Patton back in the cell. “Black!” 

“Yeah,” he rasped quietly, and then tapped the feathers in the necklace around his neck last, eliciting a delighted chirp from Patton. “My blue!” 

“Your blue,” he agreed, taking deep breaths. “I– Are they–?” 

Patton nodded sympathetically, which wasn’t helpful because Virgil had no idea what he was trying to ask. He straightened up slowly, and resisted the urge to let out a garbled protest when Patton took the opportunity to climb out of his lap. He quickly shifted back around to face the room at large, some irrational part of him still terrified that Patton would be hurt. 

Roman was closer than he remembered, but he didn’t look angry anymore. In fact, he was looking at Virgil strangely, as though he’d never seen him before. Logan was in the doorway, face impassive, but all of his hands were clasped together in a tense knot.

“Okay, I think we need to have a talk,” Patton said sternly, and Virgil’s shoulders automatically rose up to his ears. Hilariously enough, Roman’s did the exact same thing. “Roman, Logan, why don’t you go get breakfast ready? Me and Virgil will be right there!” 

Roman’s tail lashed. “But–!” 

“No buts!” Patton shoved at Roman’s knee, corralling him towards the doorway. Despite being much larger, Roman allowed himself to be shoved into the hall, and narrowed his eyes at Virgil briefly before stalking away. 

Patton brushed imaginary dust from his feathers, shooting Virgil a smile. “I love them, but they can be kinda stubborn and overbearing at times. I’m sorry everything was all overwhelming, kiddo.” 

“ _You’re_ sorry?” Virgil asked, shifting to lean back against the wall. “I just freaked out on your friends and used you as a teddy bear, and you’re the one who’s sorry?” 

“Yes!” Patton chirped, undeterred by his incredulous tone. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I think we all messed up this time, and now we’re all going to sit down and talk about it over breakfast.” 

“…Do I have to?” 

“Also yes! But I’ll be right there at your side the whole time, okay?” Patton patted his leg encouragingly.

After a long moment of entertaining stressful what-if scenarios, Virgil nodded slowly. “Okay.” 

He followed the Ampen out to the kitchen area, and sat down in the unused seat he had used the day before with an odd sense of deja vu. This… was not how he’d thought the day would turn out. 

The other two were content with pretending to be completely absorbed in setting the serving dishes out on the table, up until Patton decided it would be a good idea to climb right into Virgil’s lap and sit there, comfortable as anything. Virgil very carefully didn’t tense up as Roman and Logan both stared, choosing to instead look at a very interesting scratch on the table very intently.

“Uh, Patton? Do you want to maybe sit with your friends?” _So they stop looking at me like I’m about to take a bite out of you?_

“Nope!” Patton answered cheerily. “As long as you’re okay with it, I want to sit over here with you! You’re my friend too, after all.” 

Virgil got that weird breathless feeling again, and pressed his lips together to keep from making any strange expressions. “Yeah, that’s. That’s okay, then.” Patton beamed up at him, antennae brushing against the underside of his chin.

Once everyone was seated, there was a long stretch of silence, broken only by Roman and Patton beginning to spoon various foods onto their dishes. The awkwardness was thick enough to feel stifling, and Virgil didn’t dare reach out for anything lest he draw attention back to himself. 

Surprisingly enough, Logan was the one to break the quiet, an odd throaty chirp serving as him clearing his throat to speak. “Virgil.” Virgil stiffened like a board, instantly sweating. “I wanted to apologize to you.” 

_What?_ “What?” 

“For last night. I spoke without considering how your recent experience had affected you. I didn’t understand all of what you were saying, because you switched to what I assume is your native language, but what I did understand was enough for me to realize what I did wrong. I want to assure you that it won’t happen again,” Logan folded two of his hands on the table, bowing his head slightly. “To emphasize my point, I will refrain from taking notes without your explicit permission.” 

Virgil scrambled for something to say other than, _why do you people keep apologizing to me?_ “I thought you wanted to know about humans?” 

“I do, but I believe in ethical science first and foremost, so causing someone distress in the process is never acceptable. If you ever want to speak to me about anything you’re confused or uncertain on in regards to alien culture, please know that my quarters are open to you.” 

“Um… thank you,” Virgil said, still a bit off balance. Logan solemnly gave him four thumbs ups, and it startled a rasp of laughter out of him. Still perched on him, Patton returned the gesture with both hands. 

“Well, I think you’re not the only one owed an apology,” Roman interjected, gesturing grandly with his fork. Virgil blinked at him, confused, and he shook his head like an agitated dog. “You threw a chair at me! I wasn’t even _doing_ anything!” 

He took a moment to recall, and yeah, he did vaguely remember tossing something in Roman’s direction to distract him while he bolted. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“Of course you didn’t hurt me!” The spiky alien squinted at him, and then nodded once. “I suppose I can forgive it, so long as it doesn’t happen again.”

Huh. It was that easy? He’d kind of thought he’d be challenged to an alien duel for honor or something.

(Occupied as he was, he didn’t notice Patton send a meaningful look at Roman, and the way Roman pointedly turned his face away, stubborn as always.) 

Patton sighed, shifting to stand so he could be seen fully over the edge of the table. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, I think you two owe me an explanation of what exactly happened last night, and why I wasn’t woken up.” 

Roman and Logan traded panicked glances, and Virgil bit the inside of his cheek to keep his lips from twitching up. His humor didn’t last long though, not while listening to their description of how he’d freaked out over basically nothing, yelled at them, and ran away like a coward. 

“I’m sorry,” he cut in once Roman finally finished trying to justify his decision not to tell Patton. He drew in on himself slightly as everyone’s eyes turned to him. “Look, I appreciate you guys even giving me a chance, but it’s obvious that I don’t belong here. I… It’s okay if you want me to leave.” 

“Virgil—!” Patton started, but Logan beckoned for their attention.

“Am I correct in assuming that you believe you are a hazard to this ship due to your negative stress reactions from your experiences while captured?” he asked, and Virgil nodded hesitantly. Oddly, Roman only crossed his arms, choosing to stay silent for once.

“I’m afraid that if anyone who experienced flashbacks was banned from our ship, there wouldn’t be a single person left to operate it,” he continued dryly, “so by that logic, I must conclude that if you wish to stay, there is no reason you cannot do so.” 

Virgil felt his face burn hot with embarrassment, and Logan’s eyes widened slightly, alarmed. 

“I apologize, I did not mean to offend.” 

Patton answered before he did, breaking into peals of bell-like laughter. “Don’t worry Lo! That’s just what humans do when they’re flustered!” 

“ _Patton!_ ” he complained, ducking his head to avoid showing the others his flushed face. 

“You better get used to it, Virge, because you’re not getting rid of me that easy!” Patton scrunched his face up in a closed-eye smile, and handed him a plate of food he’d been diligently piling up during the conversation. It had something that smelled like an omelet, and he couldn’t help but drool slightly at the sight.

Virgil looked up at the others, waiting for someone to object, but Logan looked satisfied and Roman simply turned his head away, content to stay mum on the subject. 

“Okay,” he conceded, and the taste of the first real meal he’d had in days was sweet in his mouth. 


End file.
